Category: Uncategorized

Dear Kyle,

I thought about you again today. It’s gotten to the point, after all of these years, that I think about you and smile instead of breaking down. Not that I don’t break down, sometimes. There are a few songs that always do it to me. I freaked my kid out the other day, when one came on Pandora and I just lost it. We were packing up our apartment, that shitty little apartment that we’d finally outgrown. The lines from ‘When I See You Again’ just jumped out at me. “I’ve come a long way, from where we began”. If that isn’t right. The last time you saw me I was a broke single mom. I didn’t have a job, didn’t have a voice. I was nowhere, going nowhere. Now, I’m living in my first house, happily married with two little girls.

I think you’d like my husband. He’s into computers and he likes taking things apart. He likes fireworks, but not as much as you. He’s funny, like you were. I wish you could have met him.

My daughter reminds me of you. She’s funny, she loves to read. She has way too much fun when we set up a firepit, which is just you all over. I tell her stories about you, and how you were the only teenager with a receding hairline all summer. I tell her about the time we almost blew the house up on the 4th of July. I tell her that you were smart.

I tell her that I should have done something.

Dear Kyle,

It’s hard to be on Facebook on the anniversary. It just reminds me how many people loved you. I haven’t seen your little girl since the funeral, but that’s not surprising. It’s not like I’d cross paths with her mom often, not hanging out with that whole crowd anymore. Kind of felt like after I left the ex, everyone but you and Dan forgot about me. It’s weird, Dan being his brother, that he should have stuck around. I wish I would have told you when you were still here that I appreciated it.

It’s all for the best that the other’s leave me alone. For the most part, they’re self-destructive. Most of them are still using. I don’t want the kids around that. I was always the outcast, the clean person hanging out with the stoners. Guess I can be thankful of that, now. But when I see them, in public, it’s like seeing strangers wearing the faces of friends. Even the faces seem different, but we’re all getting older.

Except you.

Dear Kyle,

We lost Dan, but I guess you know that. I wasn’t encouraged to attend the funeral, but I went with his mom to see him at the hospital before he went. He looked very much like he always did, it was hard to imagine that he was so sick. I wish he had learned from what happened to you.

He didn’t leave behind any blood children, but three step babies.

I couldn’t help him, either. I don’t know what I would have done. He knew what he was doing, he had to. So I did what I could. I brought my daughter to see him, hoping it would remind him what he had to stick around for. You know, he was always a better uncle than his brother was a dad.

It was very much like you. He was surrounded by users and pushers. I’ve gotten better at not feeling guilty, but it’s still there. I don’t know what I could have done, or if either one of you would have listened to me if I’d tried. At least I tried, with Dan. He shouldn’t have had to go, and neither should you. You were both so much better than you were ever treated.

I miss you. I’ve got a lot to tell you when I see you again.

All my love, little brother.

Disclaimer: This isn’t fiction. I had a friend named Kyle who died from an illness he got from a dirty needle. When we were teenagers he and his dad lived in the same house as my mom and me. My mom was sick, and his dad was an old friend of hers. So we were like brother and sister for almost a decade. He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had. I listen to Wiz Khalifa’s See You Again, and it makes me think of him. I hope that this isn’t too much of a downer, because Kyle wouldn’t want that. He always wanted to make people laugh, he loved fireworks and cars. I wish I could have helped him. Maybe by sharing stories about him, I’ll inspire someone who’s suffering from a drug addiction. You’ve probably have a friend who will really miss you, so please get some help.

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Star Trek Beyond Review

I hate summer, except for the movies. My goodness, do I love summer movies. It’s the only reason nerds like me get out of the house during the summer. Well, that and jobs. But if I didn’t need food…

Anyway, I’m sure it’s not a surprise to any of you that I am a huge Star Trek fan. I have seen every movie, and at least a few episodes of any show. My favorite Captain is Picard, Next Generation is the best series, and my favorite of the movies is First Contact.

I think it’s safe to say that I loved Star Trek Beyond. But I think I can safely say that even non trekkies will agree that it was a very good movie.

The story is solid, which is where everything needs to start. It had a beat to it, a flow that worked really well. An enemy named Krall kidnaps the majority of the Enterprise crew, leaving only the major players like Spock, Kirk, Bones and Scotty free. They’re stranded on a strange planet, having no idea who’s kidnapped them or what they want.

As it turns out, what they want is an artifact called the abronath that is part of a bioweapon big enough to wipe out a whole space station. Like the space station called Yorktown, which happens to be the home of Sulu’s husband and daughter.

The first thing that jumped out at me for this movie was the flow of danger. First, the whole crew is in danger. Then, just one person, who Kirk must save at great risk. Finally, the whole station of Yorktown, which we particularly care about, of course. This was a great way to keep tension fresh throughout the movie.

Now, of course, a lot of this is dependent on seeing the first two movies and being emotionally invested in the characters. That shouldn’t be an issue, you want to see the first two. Which brings me to my next point. This movie is a really good continuation of the first two ‘new’ Star Trek movies. There are moments that are throwbacks to earlier in this series, like Beastie Boys Sabotage playing at a crucial scene. But you don’t really need to see those movies to enjoy this one. It’s fine standing alone. Seeing the first two just adds a deeper understanding to this one.

Likewise, you don’t have to be a long term trek fan to appreciate the new series. But it adds something. There are moments that made me lose my geeky little mind, like when the Enterprise crashed and burned. (Not a spoiler, it was in the freaking trailer!) Or when Spock is given a box of the other Spock’s belongings that included a picture of his Enterprise team. I literally started crying at that.

I also cried during the very memorable speech for ‘Spock’ that was obviously for Leonard Nimoy. It was touching as hell, and just reminded me how much the acting world lost when it lost him.

Finally, I understand that there’s been some fuss over Sulu being gay in the new movie. I don’t want to get too far into this particular fight except to say this. Anyone complaining about continuity needs to stop. Spock wasn’t dating Uhura in the original Star Trek, either. Kirk’s dad is alive, Captain Pike is in a beeping chair, and Vulcan is still there. Get over it.

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Submitting To Independent Publishers

I’ve been trying to find an agent for Broken Patterns since November. I understand that this is going to take some time. In fact, I planned on it taking up to three years.

But I recently started a new strategy. I’m still sending to agents, but I’m also actively looking for independent publishers that are more open to un-agented material. As I mentioned in a post last week, it’s been a really good experience. Honestly, I can count on one hand the list of ‘bad’ experiences I’ve had as a writer, so I’m not surprised.

As indie writers are becoming more prevalent, and indie publishers are getting clout, I’m sure some of you have considered this alternate path. If you have, you want to keep in mind that there are similarities and differences between an indie and a bigger company. Here’s what I’ve found so far.

The Similarities

What you need to keep in mind is that an indie publisher is still a publisher. They’re still professionals in a highly competitive field that gets more competitive every day.

Don’t waste their time, any more than you would waste the time of a bigger company. In fact, go farther out of your way to not waste their time, if you can. What can you do, you may ask, to not waste their time?

  • Check their submission guidelines. Don’t send them genre fiction of they don’t want it. Don’t send them info through the mail of they only accept online forms. Don’t send when they’re not reading.
  • I feel like I shouldn’t have to say it, but if I don’t I’ll feel like I wasn’t thorough. Finish your book first, if you’re writing fiction. If you’re writing nonfiction, you usually just need a proposal and some sample chapters, but that’s it.
  • And by finish, I mean finish. Edit, polish and get some beta readers. Make your book as good as it can be before you send it. Indie publishers are not less discerning than big publishers. They are, after all, running a business.

Along the same line, you’re still going to need a query packet. That means the query letter, synopsis and bio. The exact same information you’d need if you were submitting to an agent.

The differences

If you’re struggling to decide what path to take, this might help you make up your mind. As much as the basic mechanics of submitting are the same, it’s a totally different publishing game.

First of all, there’s a greater desire for non-genre work in an indie company. This has proven difficult for me, as I am a speculative fiction writer. But there are lots of indie publishers that want to see anything, just anything. I’ve found plenty of places to submit, but I’ve found a lot more that don’t want anything to do with anything that smacks of ‘mainstream’.

Another thing you want to keep in mind with indie publishers is that they are often small businesses, which means that they don’t have as many people doing stuff. With that being the case, it’s no wonder they have specific reading times through the year. I ran into a lot of places I think would be fantastic places for Broken Patterns, but they’re not reading now. I just put a note for myself in my planner, so I don’t miss their next reading time.

You want to remember, that indie publishers do have a few downsides. They don’t have the same relationship with book sellers as the big companies. That might mean your books show up on fewer bookshelves. But, with fewer and fewer people buying paper books, that might not be an issue.

With an indie publisher, though, you are running one big risk; the risk that they will go out of business. A lot of indie publishers fail, just like a lot of other indie companies.

Please understand, I don’t mean to frighten you away from indie publishers! I am willing to take the risk of a company falling out from under me, if it means I also get the chance to be one of the first books to make it big with a successful new company. I’ll take a lot of risks to be part of the start of something.

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What to Do When The Book Is Done

Happy Throwback Thursday!

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

You’ve heard the old line, hurry up and wait. Well, when you’re a writer, you will learn the meaning of that term, I promise you. You do all that work, making your manuscript shine, suffering over your query packet. Then after days and nights, maybe years of work, you send your manuscript to a market.

Maybe it’s a literary agent. Maybe it’s a magazine. Either way, one thing remains true; you will have a very long wait before you get a response. If you ever get one at all.

So, what do you do while you’re waiting? Well, first you take a pen and write the date you can expect a response by. This should be available somewhere in the submission guidelines.
Now, here’s the hard part. Forget the thing exists until you get to the day you put on your calender.

There’s an episode of Castle with Dean Koontz…

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That One House In The Neighbor

Todd thought that it was a good thing when Roxie needed walked while he was working. There was only so much staring at a computer screen and calling himself a moron that he could take at one time. So when the little boxer started scratching at the front door, he hurried to save his work, and headed out with the leash. As he did, he wondered why so many writers seemed to prefer cats.

There was a light drizzle of rain outside, making the late spring air smell wonderful. He took a deep breath while Roxie pulled ahead of him, intent more on exploring than doing her business. They passed the house on the street that no one lived in, making Todd shake his head. He guessed that everyone had that one street in their neighborhood. His son, Timothy, swore that the place was haunted. Well, he supposed he couldn’t fault the kid for having an imagination. He was the son of a writer, after all. But it was still a pain in the ass. Timothy wouldn’t go near the place, not while walking to school, taking the dog out or on evening walks with Todd. While it wasn’t a major thing, having to walk a different way, it was something Todd didn’t feel he should have to do for a twelve year old boy.

Though he had to admit, seeing the place in the gray, cold weather, it was a creepy house. The paint, a putrid pea green that he supposed had been the fashion once upon a time, was peeling. The front porch looked like it wouldn’t support a man’s weight. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like there was a taxidermy squirrel nailed to the front door. He grimaced. Why had the city allowed it to get in such bad shape?

Roxie was barking at the house. She was straining at the leash, trying to get into the yard. “Stop that,” he said, pulling her back. “You can’t make all that noise here.” The neighbor’s thought he was strange already, the way he stayed home all the time.

But Roxie apparently didn’t care that her master might be embarrassed by her barking. She gave a solid yank on the leash, and he let go. She ran right up to the house. Todd, shouting her name, ran after her. She pushed her way through the door, disappearing into the house. Praying that no one lived there, he followed after her.

The house was uninhabited. The front room was scattered with beer and vodka bottles, along with an impressive amount of cigarette butts. Obviously some of the local homeless people had been using the place to party.

“Roxie!” Todd cried, “Get down here, you stupid dog!”

He could hear her nails clicking around upstairs. Cursing the dog, half sure that the floor upstairs wasn’t going to hold him, he descended the stairs. She was standing in the hallway, wagging her tail.

“Come on, Dummy,” he said, reaching for her. As he did, he heard someone behind him, chuckling. He turned to see a woman, dressed in a raggedy blue house dress. In her hand she held a rusty butcher knife. “Pretty dog,” she said, then lunged forward. She sank the knife into the side of his neck, laughing maniacally the entire time.

Todd fell to the ground, gasping for air that he couldn’t get.

The house hadn’t been haunted.

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A Review of Bojack Horseman, Season 3

Partial spoiler alert, but no more than what you’d get by reading the episode descriptions.

The only downside of having access to a whole season of a show that I love is that I will watch all of it as quickly as possible, and then I have to wait almost a whole year for the next season. That’s what I did with season three of Bojack Horseman. I just finished it, all twelve episodes in the span of a week. And I feel blown away.

If you haven’t seen the first two seasons, let me give you a quick rundown on the show. It’s about an actor that was famous in the 90’s for being on a sitcom called ‘Horsin’ Around’. It’s a similar show to Full House or Boy Meets World. He was happy on the show, for the most part, having survived an abusive childhood. Then the show ended, and his life fell apart. It turned out that he was only happy when everyone was clapping for him.

Twenty years passed. He didn’t work for the most part. Mostly he drank, did drugs and slept around. Along the way he picked up a kid named Todd who sleeps on his couch. He’s on again, off again with his agent, named Princess Caroline. His last hope at being loved again is an autobiography. When he’s incapable of doing that because he has nothing that resembles self-control, he’s forced to hire a ghost writer.

Enter Diane, who is dating then married to Mr. Peanut Butter, who Bojack happens to hate.

The first two seasons were pretty spectacular. Don’t watch the third season if you haven’t watched the first two. During that time Bojack, after getting popular again after Diane’s book comes out, gets to star in a movie about his childhood hero, Sagritariate.

The third season is about Bojack trying to win an Oscar for that movie. At the same time, one of his old costars is trying to make a spinoff of the show, called Ethan Around. (Think Fuller House and Girl Meets World) He falls in love with his crazy publicist, and is confronted head on by all of the mistakes he’s ever made. As his current attempts to be happy are thwarted in every way possible, his sins won’t allow him a moment of peace. He can’t seem to manage to not be a terrible, selfish person for anyone or anything. One by one, the people who have tried so hard to save him give up. It get to the point that, by the last few episodes, I was cringing every time Bojack was behaving himself. It usually meant he was about to do something terrible.

The cast is pretty spectacular, with Will Arnett, Amy Sedaris and guest stars like Weird Al, Daniel Radcliff and Liev Schriber, it’s a well-acted, well written show. It’s also incredibly subtle. As person after person in his life give up, they disappear from the opening credits. The ending of the season is pretty much telegraphed, but only in retrospect.

As a warning, this is a dark season. Topics like abortion, suicide and excessive drug use are explored in great detail. Don’t watch this one with your kids, even if half the characters are anthropomorphic animals.

It really was an amazing season, though. Give it a watch when you get the chance. All three seasons are available now on Netflix

Season four, by the way, is scheduled to come out in summer of 2017, damn it.

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A writing update

It’s been awhile since I’ve done any sort of behind the scenes update, so I thought I’d take some time to do that today. Frankly between the continued gun violence and the election, I’d like to just talk about writing today.

My current schedule’s been a little nuts. I’ve got a ton of writing projects that have to be interspersed between some health issues with my mother in law and some health issues with me. Now, this month, the back to school season is starting, which means my house is getting crazy. We’ve got equipment coming in the mail, classes to sign up for, new clothes and supplies to buy, schedules to plan. It’s the same everywhere, I suppose. Any schedule change throws me for a loop, though. So I’ve been getting up early to squeeze two hours of writing time in before I leave for the day job. This is great, because I head off to work already feeling like I’ve accomplished something. But it also means that by the time I get home from the day job, I’m pretty much spent. Mostly I just want to lay on the couch and watch Bojack Horseman. (More on that next week.)

Even in the crazy season, though, I have stuff to do. And I’m getting a lot done. Here’s where I am right now.

Woven

I’m getting kind of emotional about Woven, at this point. I’m still looking for an agent or indie publisher for the first book, Broken Patterns. Been looking since November, but I refuse to be discouraged. It will happen, or I’ll self-publish. Either way, all I can do is keep on submitting. In the meantime, I am super excited to report that I just finished the rough draft of the third book in the series, Missing Stitches! It finishes out the trilogy, and it’s very bittersweet. I’m working now on the third draft of the second book, Starting Chains. I always like third drafting. The story is there, and it’s solid by that draft. I’ve just got to make sure that it flows right and make minor plot changes. I’ve written the next book, so I can add little things in from that, so that the whole series fits together like puzzle pieces. It’s a good time.

My short fiction

Since I’m no longer rough drafting, I’m spending a little more time on short fiction. Not because editing takes any less time, but because I always like to be making something new. I hope all of you have been enjoying the pieces that I’ve been posting here on PBW. My plan is to create some new short story collections once I’ve written enough. Hopefully I’ll get at least one of these collections done by the end of the year.

The secret project

I’m not ready to give away everything about the secret project just yet. Here’s what I will tell you, though. It’s Science Fiction, It’s almost done, and you’ll have access to it on October 5th. See, I worked a deadline in there to keep myself at my freaking desk.

By the way…

Some of you might already know this, but August 31st marks the second year anniversary of Paper Beats World. I’ll be doing a pretty huge post that week full of thank you’s and lessons learned over the last two years. For now, let me just say that I’m truly humbled by how many people come to my little corner of the internet. Especially now that I’m posting more of my own fictional work, every one of you means so much to me.

Thank you.

Stay tuned.

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Writing 101, Day 10

Reblogging for Throwback Thursday, and thinking of Grandma June today.

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.

So, food.  There wasn’t a real celebration food in my house growing up.  My mom wasn’t a very good cook, and never wanted to be bothered with it, really.  I can’t really think of anything my grandmother made that was particularly memorable, either.

It’s my grandma June that I talk about the most when talking about food.

Grandma June was particular.  Near the end of her life she didn’t eat or drink anything but oranges and diet, caffeine free Pepsi out of a can with a straw.  But the whole time I had her in my life, she always had white tic tacs with her, wherever she was.

She had a little garden in the back yard, and she’d…

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Origami

If you like this story, please check out Days and Other Stories. Right now you can get it for only a dollar using the offer code pbwy2. Here’s a link.

It had been a long day at the end of a long week. At the end of a long year, really. And the worst part, Maggie, thought as she pulled herself out of her car, was that it wasn’t half over. Not after a morning in class and an evening spent behind the register at her crappy retail job. It was nine at night, and still her day wasn’t over.

She’d picked up Erica from the sitter’s place, an easily irritated woman who had no inclination of making the toddler dinner. Needless to say Erica was in a mood, and not at all thrilled to be buckled into her car seat. Then there was dinner to make, a bath to be given, and stories to read.

“Time to go to sleep, Baby girl,” she crooned, lifting Erica into her racecar bed.

“No, not tired,” Erica insisted, sitting right back up.

“I wish I wasn’t tired,” Maggie muttered. “Give your mom a break, okay, hun?” Eventually she managed to cajole the child into lying down. Wanting nothing more than to go to bed herself, she went instead to the crowded desk in her living room to start her homework. She took a moment to consider the dinner dishes and the cluttered room before realizing that she would have energy for homework or housework, but not both.

She opened her second hand laptop, and got to work. It was eleven by then. If she worked fast, she might be done by one.

That blissful thought lasted no more than twenty minutes. From Erica’s bedroom came the sound of little feet on the floor, followed by running. “Mommy, I’m too awake!” Erica insisted.

“Okay, okay,” Maggie said, “here’s what we’ll do. You can stay up, but there’s no tv and no stories. You’ve got to sit and play next to me and be real quiet.”

“But what can I do?” Erica asked.

Sighing, Maggie pulled a notebook towards her. She ripped out a page, and started folding it. In a moment, she’s folded the paper into a koi fish. She folded three more pieces, one into a crane, then a frog, then a lotus. “Here,” she said, setting each piece in turn on the ground in front of Erica.

The little girl looked at the pieces, then back up at her mother. “Will you do the secret thing?” she asked, her voice quiet.

How quickly she learned, to be quiet.

Maggie gave her a wicked smile. She gave a flick with her finger, and the pieces began to move. The frog hopped, the ball rolled around in circles, the crane fluttered up into the air and the koi fish popped along as though it were in water. Erica laughed, trying to move one of the pieces on her own. She couldn’t yet, but she was almost there.

With Erica pleasantly distracted, Maggie turned her attention back to her school work. All the magic in the world wasn’t going to get her a degree.

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Vanity Presses are all well and good, but…

As you know if you follow me on social media, I’ve spent most of July researching indie publishers to send Broken Patterns to. For the most part, it has been a really great experience. The submission process is similar to that of a literary agent, so it’s not much of a transition. Many places have online submission forms which make my job just that much easier. (Though, word to the wise, most online forms ask for the same info you’d put into a query packet. So, no slacking there.) I’ll be doing an in depth behind the scenes piece about submitting to indie publishers soon.

Not today, though. Today, I have to issue a warning.

In the process of submitting to indie publishers, I came across one that seemed legit. It had an online form that I so love, accepted fantasy novels and seemed to be a legitimate company. I filled everything out with the same amount of care and excitement that I always feel when submitting one of my pieces. It might be the big one, it’s always going be the big one. The one that really gets my name out there and makes me a ‘someone’.

Not so much.

I realized literally minutes after I’d submitted to the company that something was wrong. I received an acceptance letter, a nice long one, right away. The editor asked me to clean up my bio a little and send it back.

Then she informed me that, as indie publishing was a hard business, she asked her writers to purchase at least 50 copies of their book, at a reduced rate of course, to sell myself.

I’m sure you understand what’s happening here. I had not found a legitimate publisher. I’d found a vanity press.

Now, I have nothing against vanity presses. I am self-publishing a series (more on that later this week), and I will probably use something similar to print copies of my book to sell.

But when I do that, I’ll know what I’m getting into.

See, a company like that can do many things that a traditional publisher will do. They might have editors and copywriters. They might have fact checkers. Some even have artists to do cover art for you, or even their own stores. If you’ve decided to independently publish your book there are lots of options and resources out there to help you get that done.

But it’s you that’s getting that done, in that case. You’re investing your money, time and energy. You’re creating a product that you will then yourself, sell. A traditional publisher is a totally different animal. They technically own your book. They pay you, and they ask you to do edits and appearances. The financial pressure is off of you, and so is the selling. You already sold your book to them; they’re going to take it from there.

I like both ways, and intend to pursue both. What I don’t like, is when a vanity press pretends to be a traditional publisher.

I need to know what I’m getting into, and so do you. If I’m responsible for my book then I need to know that, going in.

Fortunately, I have been in this field for a while, and I’ve learned (painfully) that not everyone out there wants to help me publish my book. Some people want to dick me, and other writers, over. Thankfully I never lost money in these lessons, but other writers have. Here, then, are some tips to keep you safe on your publishing journey.

Don’t give anyone money outright.

Literary agents don’t as for money from the writer. Neither do traditional publishers. Self-publishing companies do, but that’s to be understood, and you’ve got a clear contract dictating what you’re getting for your money. Any agent or publisher that charges ‘reading fees’ or ‘office fees’ is not a legitimate company. Those are not things that are charged in this business, end of story.

Don’t believe someone who tells you that you must purchase a certain amount of books yourself.

Again, traditional publishers exist to sell your book to readers. They don’t want to make money off of you. They want you to make books that they can then make money off of. No valid traditional publisher wants you to buy copies, and in fact will possibly send you a few copies for free.

Always check Predators and Editors.

I have this page bookmarked, and you should to. Not only can you find the dirt on bad ‘editors’, you can report companies that you’ve found that are doing writers wrong. (Don’t worry, not every little gripe and burn is up here.)

Be safe out there, whatever road to publishing you take.

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